Life and Death
by BollyKnickers
Summary: What happens after Alex oversees her parents being killed. Spoilers for ep 1-7. Takes place after the 'theoretical' episode 8. Gene/Alex-ish. And rated M for Gene being Gene.
1. Chapter 1

**Life and Death**

**A/N: **Sorry to anyone who was following Mistakes... I haven't decided whether there will be another chapter or not, but for now, take it as meaning there won't be. This, however, is just as random and evil (I promise you, I do not hate Alex Drake. She's my favorite character! As me and my friend Bex decided, it's because we know how amazing Keeley would be in scenes such as the following, and that we're doing this out of love!) but I promise it'll make more sense soon. It's set, theoretically, after episode 8. But not the real episode 8, since I haven't seen episode 8 (obviously). It's the episode 8 those of us on the a2ashes community have pretty much built (well, with my adaptations). If that makes any sense. But there probably are spoilers for episode 1-7.

It's kind of working backwards, and hopefully you'll catch on to what I'm trying to do. i.e. the first bit happens AFTER the rest. But I will be continuing from the first bit in later chapters.

**Disclaimer: **I, unfortunately, am not Kudos, and therefore do not own any of the Ashes to Ashes characters -sob-. However, I do own Fynn Langley (as we know how I love to make up evil, mean people hahaha).

* * *

Gene remembered holding onto her as she screamed at the first moment of impact. The blood, it was everywhere. It coated _everything. _Red red red. He glanced over at his beloved Quattro, and knew he'd never be able to drive it again. Never be able to get that colour out of his head. Never make it mean anything besides this. Besides the glass of _red_ wine which was shattered on the ground. Besides the puddle of sticky _red_ which he was knelt in. He knew this was it. That he was watching her breathe for the last time. And there was nothing he could do, but weep, and dig his nails in as she went limp in his arms. They'd leave marks, but he knew those marks would never bruise. What was a little more blood anyway?

There was a smile on her thin, bluing lips. He didn't understand. Was she putting on a brave face? Maybe this was what she'd wanted all along.

Finally, she stilled, and he knew, right then, that he'd lost her.

* * *

_(two days previous, evening time)_

She'd really thought that she could save them. Thinking about it now, it was ridiculous. This was her subconscious. She'd not borrowed Dr. Who's tardis; nothing she did here meant anything at all in the real world; in 2008 her parents would still have been dead if she'd managed to do anything about it or not. And of course, she'd never have been able to do anything. Their fate was their fate. All she was here to do was relive the memories. It was just supposed to make her understand.

But it hadn't. All it had done was make her more confused. All this time, she'd thought it was Evan. Thought it was his hand that she'd grabbed hold of all those years ago (well, really, yesterday), but it wasn't. It was Gene's. And how, exactly, had she grabbed an _imaginary construct _by the hand, before he'd even been 'constructed'?! Was that even possible? She hadn't thought so, but apparently it was.

Her father. It had been her father all along. It made her sick to think about it all. And yet, she didn't blame him. She really didn't blame him because it wasn't him that made the bile rise in her throat. How could she have been so wrong about everything? Even after finding out about her mother and Evan, she'd continued to trust them both. And there they were planning to leave her father; the man her mother was _supposed_ to love, for _Evan._

The same Evan who Alex had left Molly with back in 2008.

She couldn't help but be a little freaked out about that, even if her heart told her that he'd never do anything to harm Molly. In the same way he'd never done anything to harm her. _Apart from, you know, causing my father to kill himself and my mother,_ she thought bitterly, glaring at the calendar, and that stupid little cross marking the day before's date. It was all she could do not to rip the whole thing apart.

"You've had your fun," she whispered, "you've put me through the misery and pain of my parents dying, again, now let me get home." Her voice grew louder, "let me get back to Molly," until she was finally screaming at the top of her lungs, "LET ME GET BACK TO MOLLY!"

It was no good. The clown – whoever, or whatever, it was – had died along with her parents and any respect she'd ever had for Evan White.

* * *

(_the next morning_)

"We've got a case," Hunt grunted, dumping a folder on Alex's desk, "a _real_ one."

She looked up at him and glared, "I'm sorry, but did Caroline Price not die in an explosion, in the exact same way that _I _ told you she did?"

He shrugged and left, presumably returning to his office, leaving her to go through the file on her own.

"Quattro. 5 minutes. Give yer time to read through that," he muttered on his way out.

She couldn't stay angry at him, no matter how hard she tried. Watching him rescue 1981-Alex (which, in itself was very hard to get her head around), she'd seen something inside him that she'd never seen before. He was kind. And gentle. And he'd certainly provided some comfort for the little girl who had just seen her parents get blown up. In fact, as she'd watched him take her away, she'd remembered that she had honestly never felt more safe in her entire life than it that single moment. The look on his face had triggered so much emotion that she'd gone on to throw up behind a tree.

Flicking through the file, Alex closed it again, tucked it under her arm, and headed out to the car, deciding she'd have a proper read on the drive.

* * *

The victim was a '20-somethink' (Ray's words exactly) woman who had died from repeated stab wounds to the abdomen. No I.D., no weapon, no clues. Forensics had scanned the area, but to no avail. In short, they had nothing.

Alex stood at the scene, hovering over the large puddle of blood where the victim had been taken away, and rubbing her temple. Any other time, and this kind of case might have got the adrenaline running. Maybe even – if she dared say it – excited her to some extent. She liked solving cases which were otherwise unsolvable. But not when she was still frantically trying to find a way to get home, to get back to her daughter. All these cases did nothing but frustrate her. So far, she'd taken every one of them as if it was _the_ one to get her home, and every one of them had ended up being a red herring. She'd reached the point where she didn't care any more. After all, all these victims were just creations of her own mind, why should she _care_ about them?!

"Nasty," Hunt hissed, startling Alex, who hadn't realized he was standing behind her.

"Yes," she whispered; it being the only word she could muster up.

"So, Bolls, what's the verdict? Ain't ya gonna bore us all 'alf to death with your psychiatry bollocks?"

She couldn't even be bothered to correct him. It just wasn't in her. Her heart wasn't in it anymore.

"She was stabbed with a long, sharp object," she said, after a beat, "ruptured her spleen, I think. She had no chance."

"That doesn't really narrow it down for us does it?" he said, obviously as annoyed with the lack of evidence as she was.

Alex sighed, "no, no it doesn't."

"What do you suggest?"

She was slightly taken aback with him asking for her advice. She'd half expected him to announce he was going to search the area and beat information out of every piece of scum he could find. When he was still waiting for her opinion a few minutes later, she knew he meant business.

"I...I don't know," she admitted, rubbing her neck with one hand, still looking down at the puddle.

"Right. Well if you don't, I bloody well ain't got a clue neither," he snapped, stomping off.

Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

* * *

A couple of hours later, they still didn't have much evidence to work on. Any leads they might have had had already been explored, and eventually eliminated. They had nothing.

Chris, standing at one side of the room, was bouncing a small ball against his desk. Ray, at the other side of the room, was flirting with one of the WPCs who had joined them. Wherever Hunt was, he wasn't making any noise, and Alex viewed this as a good thing. The last thing she needed was him bellowing at her, after the night's sleep (or rather, lack of) that she'd had. No, she'd just go to sleep right here, with her head on the desk and the steady rhythm of Chris's bouncy ball as a lullaby...

"DRAKE!"

She jumped out of her seat and glared at him with bleary eyes. She could just about make out Ray's sniggers in the background as she sat up fully and looked Hunt squarely in the eyes.

"Yes?"

"No sleeping on the job."

"And what job would that be? We have _nothing_ Gene. What do you expect us to do? _Make_ evidence?" she realized she probably shouldn't have suggested that, even if it was laced with sarcasm, "when I've got something to do, I'll stop sleeping."

_Not that I'll be able to get much sleep here anyway, _she thought. Though, truth be known, she didn't think she was going to get much sleep _anywhere_. The clown may have left her alone, but the nightmares that had followed suit were even worse. She just kept going over that bloody explosion, and what would have happened had Gene not been there.

"You've got something to do," he announced, plonking the second folder of the day on her desk.

"What is this?" she asked, opening the folder and peering at the first page.

"List of suspects. Doc found a bar receipt in the victim's mouth. These are all the scumbags who were at _Dianna's_ last night," he narrowed his eyes when she didn't immediately start reading, "what are you waiting for, a sodding drum roll?! Get to it will yer?"

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with this?"

Hunt glared at her, "take young Christopher over there, and go make yerself useful. Check out these bastard's alibis."

As he turned his back she resorted to childish mimicking, picking up the folder and heading over to Chris, "come on, we've got work to do."

* * *

The fifth house on their list belonged to one Fynn Langley. The small green car pulled up outside it's front door, and Alex got out. This house, no doubt like the other five, was going to be a dead end. They all were. This was _pointless_ and Hunt knew it. He'd just as likely sent them out here to get them out of the way.

She watched while Chris knocked on the front door, her hands finding their way to her jacket pockets. After a short while – half a minute perhaps – the door opened, and a fair-haired young woman appeared on the other side.

"Can I help you?" she asked, looking from Alex, to Chris, and back to Alex.

"Hello, we're here to speak to Fynn Langley. This is the address we've been given," Alex fished around in her pocket and went to pull out her police identification, but just as she went to, a hand came out from nowhere, and something hard and heavy hit her on the head. Next thing she knew, she was falling, and everything was very very dark.

**TBC.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **sorry this bit is relatively short, but I wanted to get something up cos it's been a while. I know where I'm taking this whole thing now, so it shouldn't be long before I get the next bit up. And how scary that my episode 8 was almost exactly the real episode 8...

* * *

Chris opened his eyes first. Everything was fuzzy and he glanced over at the DI and realized she was still passed out. They were tied up somewhere; a basement he presumed. He'd never been very good at staying strong in rough situations, and God knew he'd had some shit sent his way in the past few weeks. First Shaz, and now this. But he was the man in this situation, not to mention currently the only person awake, and he needed to stay calm and strong. _DCI Hunt would know what to do if it was him sitting here, _Chris thought, taking a deep breath.

"Ma'am?" he whispered, squinting in the faint light that scattered across the floor from the crack under the closed door.

The only reply he got was a soft groan.

"Ma'am... er... DI Drake? are you alright ma'am?"

Finally Alex forced her eyes open and crawled into a seated position. Her arms were tied to the radiator – which of course she found slightly ironic, having read about the exact same thing happening to Sam – and she glanced at Chris to find that his were tied to the bottom of a heavy bookshelf. _Great._ This was all she needed. A vault, a freezer, watching her parents die, and now this.

"Yeah. I'm okay Chris," she replied, with a weak smile.

"Good," he paused, "how do we get out of 'ere ma'am?"

Alex closed her eyes, "I don't know Chris."

_It would help if I actually knew where we were_ she thought, looking around the enclosed space for any clues. The obvious presumption would be that they were somewhere in Langley's flat. But without knowing how much time had passed since they'd knocked on the front door, she couldn't be sure that they hadn't been moved somewhere else. If that was the case, who knew where they were?!

"Do you think the guv will come find us?" he murmured, sounding more like a scared little boy than ever before; more frightened than when he thought Shaz had died.

"I hope so."

Chris swallowed hard and Alex got the feeling that he was only talking to remind himself that he was still alive.

"I reckon he will. He cares about you ma'am. He does. You can tell."

Alex felt her cheeks flush, but she remained silent. Things had changed a lot in the two days that had passed since her parents' deaths. Whether or not Gene had felt anything for her, and whether or not she'd felt anything for him, was still debatable, but now even more so. If it was he who saved her as a child, how could she justify feeling anything now, having seen him with her as a child? It felt wrong. Just as wrong as it would have been if she'd done anything with Evan. _No, _she reminded herself, _that's definitely worse. _Perhaps Gene hadn't really been there; perhaps she'd slotted him in where a different person had been, just because her mind had grown too lazy to create new faces, new identities. Anyway, at the real explosion – not this one, not the one her mind had created - there was no DI Alex Drake to have dragged Gene Hunt into this mess. How could he possibly have been there?

It still didn't explain how she felt about him. Part of her wanted to love him even more; he'd saved her life. And seeing him with her younger self had prompted her to think about how he'd act with her own daughter. Which, in itself, was something she didn't feel comfortable thinking about. He was in 1981 and she – Molly – was not. They were literally worlds apart. Destined to never meet. And yet she couldn't help wondering. But on the other hand, there was just something _wrong_ about the whole thing.

The spot on the back of her head where she'd been hit earlier that day was throbbing and her wrists were sore from being tied too tightly. And the lack of sleep wasn't doing her any good either. Her eyelids kept threatening to slide closed and she was getting more and more drowsy. Somewhere outside, a light flickered on and off. She decided to concentrate on it, using it as her only hope of staying awake.

* * *

"When did DI Drake leave?" Shaz asked with a hint of caution in her voice. They all knew she was more concerned at Chris returning than the DI. Even though they'd tried to persuade her to have some more time off, she'd insisted on coming in, only to find that her boyfriend had gone off to do some door-to-doors with Alex. And what was she stuck with? Paperwork; as usual.

"Couple hours ago. Why? Missing Chris are we?" Ray replied. He could have been a lot ruder, and Shaz could tell he was forcing himself not to be, given her current condition. And she knew exactly how difficult it was for him, which just made it more touching.

"Well they only went to check some people out right?"

Ray nodded, closing the newspaper he was reading, "yeah. Why, yer think they should be back by now?"

"Yeah. Well... I mean. It doesn't usually take that long does it?" She looked genuinely worried, and for once Ray agreed with her.

"Maybe we should ask guv if we should go look for 'em?"

"I can't," Shaz said quietly, "not allowed to leave me desk,"

"Oh. Well... I could go look? I think I kept a copy of that list somewhere?"

Smiling at him, Shaz nodded, "you'd do that? Thanks Ray."

"That's alright love."

And with that he left. But it wasn't just Shaz's peace of mind he was thinking of. She was absolutely right; it didn't take two and a half hours to follow up half a dozen names. There was something wrong, he could feel it.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I'm sorry this is going so slow. I promise this is the last bit before it actually gets to explaining the very beginning. This is going to be reasonably long, and I PROMISE there will be Galex eventually. Like I've said before, I have it all planned out. I'll try and get the next bit up quicker.

-

Residents didn't seem best pleased to be bothered by the police twice in one day, and each house came up with nothing productive. This was a good thing at the same time as being a bad thing – maybe Alex and Chris had gone to get something to eat? Or maybe they'd gone back to Luigi's for a drink? On the other hand, maybe something worse had happened.

Ray strode up to the final house and knocked on the door.

"Alright love?" he said, forcing a smile as the door opened.

The woman narrowed her eyes, "oh, it's you, took yer time didn't yer?!"

"Natalie..." a sheepish look flashed over Ray's features as he recognised the girl from the RWF that he'd slept with a couple of weeks back.

"Natalie indeed; I'm surprised you even remember my name," she growled, "y'know, a phone call would've been nice."

"Sorry love, I've been busy..."

"Like hell you have," she pouted, looking away from him, "what do you want?"

"Is Stan Backfish yer Dad?" Ray asked, glancing behind her into the empty hallway.

"So what if he is? I shoulda known this was you doin' copper work, not comin' round to see me."

Ray sighed, getting frustrated, "look, is he 'ere or not?"

"No, he ain't. He went on business for a few weeks. Why?" she placed her hands on her hips, meeting Ray's eye again.

"We wanna talk to him 'bout a stabbin'; thas all."

The blonde's face fell, and she looked shocked for a second, before anger took over, "my daddy ain't got nothin' to do with no stabbin'."

"Well that's ok then," Ray dead panned, "have any other coppers come by today?"

"No," she said, "now if you'd kindly leave me alone..."

"Okay," Ray sighed as she closed the door. He had at least got the information that he needed.

-

Sleep was still threatening to take over as Alex slumped against the radiator, rocking backwards and forwards for need of something to do. Chris had gone very quiet, and that worried her. As far as she could tell, they hadn't been too badly injured, besides the scratches and bruises of being thrown in this basement, but they had both received blows to the head, and she knew concussion was always a possibility. _God, I of all people know that,_ she thought, secretly wondering if if one of her constructs got too badly hurt they'd end up in 1928 or something. The thought amused Alex a little, but did nothing to take away from the worry.

It was hot in here. Not as hot as the vault, admittedly, but still hot. She breathed out, tiny beads of sweat running down her forehead. It made her long for the safety of Gene Hunt's arms – much as she hated to admit it. She'd felt so secure being so close to him, her head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart pounding. It was dark, so she couldn't be certain, but she was almost sure that she'd felt him kiss the top of her head. It was the same compassion in him that she recognised in the Gene Hunt who saved little Alex Price when her parents were blown up. _I _am_ that little Alex_ she reminded herself, shivering despite the heat.

"Chris?" she murmured in a voice which didn't sound quite like her own.

"Yeah?"

"Nothing. I was uh... never mind," she sighed. This was so pointless. She couldn't do _anything_ about getting them out, when she didn't know where they were, and her arms were tied to a radiator.

"Shaz was comin' back to work today ma'am," Chris said, his voice wavering, "I was meant to be there to make her tea and give her pink wafers, and stop her from doing anything that might get her... get her hurt."

"I know," Alex replied, closing her eyes momentarily.

There was a loud noise from just above the stairs in the corner of the room, and Alex's eyes snapped open. Before she knew what was happening, a hand was covering her mouth and she was being untied by someone else. She screamed, trying to bite the gloved hand, and failing. The smell of the leather was making her drowsy again, and she had to put all her effort into keeping her eyes open. She soon felt herself being dragged up the stairs by two men, dressed entirely in black.

-

"And where the bloody 'ell 'ave you been Raymondo?!" Gene Hunt's voice bellowed through the office the minute Ray returned.

Sheepishly, the DS handed him the list.

"Yeah... I gave this to DI Drake and DS Skelton; what are you doin' with it?"

"Guv, they left over three hours ago and no one's 'eard from them since. I went to check out some of these places. First four confirmed 'avin' seen Drake and Chris, five was out, and six definitely hadn't seen them." He chewed on his gum waiting for some kind of reply. He half expected something along the lines of 'stop being a jessie and get some real work done'.

"Alright. Either someone is lyin' to us, or somethin' happened to them at 'ouse 4 or 5. Don't take yer coat off, we're goin' back to see who lives behind door number 4," he barked, grabbing his own overcoat, and heading outside to the Quattro.

-

When Alex finally regained conciousness for the second time (she honestly didn't remember being knocked out this time, and it seemed like only seconds since she'd been dragged up those stairs, but she knew it couldn't have been) she found herself back in the basement. Alone. Whatever they'd done to her, they'd now taken Chris to do the same to him.

With this thought in mind, she struggled to check herself over – it was difficult when tied up – and found that besides a large cut on her arm, which had stopped bleeding but was crusty with dried blood, she was fine. She only hoped that Chris would return in the same condition. Her head, however, was pounding. It had taken to aching a lot since she'd gone to1981 – not surprising really, considering she had been shot – but most of the time she managed to push it to the back of her mind and ignore it. In fact, she'd come quite accustomed to it if she was honest. This, however, was not just a small headache. Whatever they'd hit her with, it had bloody hurt!

-

Gene stormed into house number four before the door had even been opened fully. Grabbing the man who opened the door by the neck, he lifted the skinny lad off the ground easily.

"What 'ave yer done with my DI and DS?!" he snarled, as Ray hovered in the doorway.

"'scuse me?! I dunno what yer talking 'bout Mr Hunt," the man – not much more than a boy, seventeen or eighteen maybe – trembled, his legs dangling helplessly, "honest. They left 'ere hours ago."

"I think you might be lyin' to me," Gene said, lifting the lad higher.

"I'm not! Please DS Carling, tell 'im!"

Ray smirked, rolling his gum around his mouth, "tell 'im what?"

Hunt dropped the man to the floor, and kicked him in the ribs, before turning back to Ray.

"This jessie couldn't beat up a granny with no legs, let alone take Drake and Chris," he muttered, "we're wastin' our time."

And so they left, closing the door on the angry questions of their suspect's mother.

In the car, Ray looked at the list and frowned, "y'know Guv... I can't read this number. It's a 5 yeah?"

"Give it 'ere," Hunt snapped, snatching the paper away from his DS, "it's a 2 you div!"

"Oh..."

"So let me get this straight... you checked the wrong 'ouse?!" He glared at him, then returned his attention to the road.

"...maybe?"

They pulled up outside the house and Hunt quickly made his way to the front door, hammering on the flakey blue wood. No one answered. _Maybe you're not such an idiot Ray_, he thought, realizing that no one was going to open the door.

"If they won't come to the Gene Genie, the Gene Genie will have to go to the mountain... or uh...somethin'" he said, concentrating on where was best to hit the door.

He ran up and launched himself at it, boot first. The door swung off its hinges with a satisfying crunch.

-

Alex was beginning to think she had no hope. Wherever they'd taken Chris, he'd been gone for a long time. Of course, she didn't know exactly how long; it could have been merely minutes, but it felt like hours. Her head was throbbing, and she'd found another cut, on her leg. The white leather of her boots was stained with blood, and a small rip was evident. She guessed it was a knife of some sort. Furthermore, when she stood on the ankle, she guessed she wouldn't be able to stand the pain. It was numb for the time being, which she was at least a little thankful for.

Finally, there was a noise at the door. Alex looked up, a tiny glimmer of hope within her that it might be Gene.

Of course, it was not.

The figures, completely dressed in black even down to balaclavas (which she hadn't noticed before) threw Chris down the stairs and he landed with a thud beside where Alex was leaning.

"We'll be back," a gruff voice said, "don't try any monkey business."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **I promised I'd get another bit up soonish, and I have. Thank you for the reviews and I hope you enjoy this bit. There is more to come, promise. But I haven't decided if it's all going to be part of this, or if it will form a sequel.Either way, it will be with you soon :)

-

What happened after then happened so fast that Alex couldn't keep up. One minute she was trying to wake Chris up, still leaning against a radiator, the next she was being scooped up into strong, safe arms and being carried away. She couldn't work out if she'd passed out or if it really had been that quick. When Hunt put her back down in the hallway, however, she managed to piece things together a little better – the scum bag that Ray was currently standing on helped the matter, as did the one who was out cold in the kitchen doorway.

Alex let out a sigh of relief, looking at Hunt with wide, scared eyes. He had always been the one to save her – even, if she was willing to think about it, when she was a child – and she'd known somewhere inside her that he was capable of doing it again. She closed her eyes, leaning close to him, his arm still wrapped protectively around her waist.

"Is Chris alright?" she whispered.

"I'm fine ma'am," a voice said from behind her, and she looked over to find him nursing a cut on his forehead, but otherwise fine.

"'ow 'bout you Bolls, you okay?"

Alex nodded, "I'll be fine. Nothing a good night's sleep won't handle."

"And 'ave you been getting that? Sleep, I mean," Gene asked, his voice suddenly softer, taking her by surprise.

"...no," she admitted, "I will though."

She uncurled herself from him and reviewed the scene. The man in the kitchen was still unconscious, and the one under Ray's boot was struggling and swearing, but otherwise taken care of. Why did she still feel like something was wrong? Shrugging it off, she followed as Hunt dragged the unconscious man towards the front door.

As they got outside, she finally realized what was wrong.

"Gene..." she said, a hint of urgency in her voice, which he seemingly ignored.

He was too busy throwing the limp body of his suspect into the back of the Quattro.

"Gene!" she said again, louder.

"What Bolls? Can't yer see I'm busy?"

Alex glanced around the street, "Gene... there were three. Three men. We've only got two..."

"What?!"

"There were _three!_" she shrieked, turning round, looking for where the other one could have gotten to.

They searched the scene, but wherever Langley had gone, it was far enough away from them that they couldn't track him down.

-

It felt wrong to be celebrating that evening in Luigi's. Alex seemed not to be the only one who felt that way, as moments after she'd sat down at her usual table, Gene Hunt was joining her.

"Don't mind do yer?" he slurred slightly, unceremoniously dumping another glass of red wine in front of her, and lager in front of himself.

"No of course not Gene. I uh..." she looked down into her half empty glass and then back up at him, "I wanted to say thank you. For saving me. Again."

"s'all right Bolls. I've come used to it," he picked up his drink and gulped down a mouthful.

They sat in silence for a while, as they often did. There was something comforting about just being in each other's company that meant they had no need for talking. Arguing, they did a lot of, however. And it was the arguing that made way for the comfortable silence. Arguing which made Hunt's heart race and Alex's body ache for something she couldn't identify. Or at least didn't want to identify. It was too complicated – she couldn't get attached to this world, or anyone in it. It would just make it harder to leave. She knew that now. And she knew that the next time they had that leaving dinner, it would be ten times worse.

"What's wrong?" Gene said, sipping his drink again.

"I can't help thinking about Langley..." she lied – although it wasn't _really_ a lie, she had been thinking about it all evening, "he may have already killed one person... tried to kill me and Chris, and we let him get away."

"But we got his two scum bags friends; that's gotta be worth somethin' right?" he looked Alex in the eyes, and could tell that she wasn't telling him everything.

"I guess."

More silence. It wasn't as comforting now though. Alex's mind was racing, her headache having not completely gone away either. And she could tell from the way Hunt was looking at her that he knew something else was wrong. She hated herself for caring so much about someone who wasn't even real. She had to concentrate on reality, on Molly.

"I... I think I'm going to get an early night," she said finally.

"Okay," Hunt nodded.

She left her seat and started to move away from the table, taking the glass of wine with her.

"Wait!"

Alex turned round and looked at him expectantly.

"You uh... you left your jacket it the Quattro. I know 'ow much you love the soddin' thing; wouldn't be Bolly without it," he muttered, and she could tell he was making up excuses to keep her near.

"Right," she said with a faint smile, "I'll come and get it."

They left together, to where the car was parked just outside. Before Alex could get to the car, Hunt stopped her, taking her hand in his own. It was an odd gesture from someone as big and tough as he, but Alex wasn't complaining, finding a strange softness and familiarity in his rough hands. Her mind drifted back to the day her parents had died. It still felt different in some way. At least she hoped so. She didn't think her heart raced quite this much when she was a little girl, and she was certain that aged eight, she hadn't longed to be closer to the man who held her.

"Gene..." she whispered, looking up at him.

He pulled her closer to him and wrapped his arms around her, saying nothing.

After a moment, he let go of her. She felt like something was missing now that she didn't have his strong arms around her. Looking up at him, Alex tried to read his expression.

"You've needed it for days," he said, his gruff tone not matching the meaning behind his words at all.

"I have." she said simply.

There was a soft rustling noise coming from the alleyway opposite them, and Alex turned to look at it, her body going tense.

"What?"

Alex looked back at him, "nothing. It's nothing. You know... since my par-- since the Price's, I've been a bit... on the edge."

Hunt nodded, deciding that if she was going to tell him any more than that, she would do it in her own time.

"Right, your jacket, yeah?" he said, breaking eye contact and moving towards the car.

Alex heard the gunshot long before she felt it. It seemed like a whole five minutes before it hit her body, a scream leaving her lips. The glass fell from her hands, shattering into tiny pieces. She didn't fall with it though, didn't hit the ground, and she couldn't understand why at first, but then realized she had Gene's arms around her again. He was kneeling now, with her draped over his knee, pulled up into his arms. The blood. It was everywhere, coating everything. She tried to breathe, but every body-shaking breath hurt more than the one before. Her eyes clouded with tears.

She was scared. So scared that this was it, that the final spark of life within her had burnt out and she was to die here, and in 2008, and there was nothing she could do about it. Should she say goodbye to Molly? She realized she couldn't even if she wanted to.

The clown – of which she hadn't seen in days, it fading with the image of her father – was walking towards her, arms open. She squinted at it, and although it was fuzzy, it didn't disappear. It continued to get closer and closer, it's head nodding like one of the strange plastic dogs that Molly had bought for the back of her car.

And then it hit her. This was her way out, wasn't it? Surely she couldn't actually die in 1981? And if she did... then she'd go back home. A soft smile formed on her lips. She was ready to go. Maybe she hadn't got to say goodbye... but it was better this way. This way she didn't have to put her friends – no, her imaginary constructs – through the pain (if, that was, they could feel pain) of her saying goodbye again.

She closed her eyes and soon everything – the traffic, the screams of her colleagues as they rushed out to see what had happened, even the smell of Hunt – faded away to nothing.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/U: **Okay here's the next bit – two chapters in one day, I know, it's a miracle. This, I have a feeling may be the second to last chapter, but I'm not sure how I'm going to end this exactly, so we may be looking at a few more after all. This is a concept I have thought about quite a lot, although I know it does have its faults, which will be explained in the next chapter. And there WILL be Galex in the next chapter(s). Thank you for reviewing!

-

Alex's eyes fluttered open, and she blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the bright lights of the room she was in. As she tried to make sense of the shapes around her, the light was blocked by a dark silhouette hovering in front of her. She gasped, and then wished she hadn't as a horrible pain made its way down her throat.

"Alex? Alex, are you awake?" a voice said.

It was a voice she recognised, but it took her a moment to realize who it belonged to. Evan. She wanted to move away from him, to demand he left her alone, but when she tried to speak, nothing happened.

"Hello Alex," this voice wasn't familiar at all, and sounded far more formal. It was a woman, that she was sure of.

Alex blinked again and finally she could see clearly. She was in a hospital, all white walls and beeping machinery. The unidentifiable woman was, in fact, a doctor. Alex felt tears coming to her eyes. _I'm home, I'm finally home, _she thought as the doctor moved her to sit up. Evan reached for the plastic cup beside her bed and poured some water, lifting it carefully to her lips. Alex swallowed a few gulps, but it was as if her body had forgotten how to do anything, and most of the water went down the front of her gown.

"Sorry," she whispered, glad to finally be able to make a noise, "where's Molly?"

She knew something was wrong when Evan didn't answer, but instead set the cup back down, glancing at the doctor.

"Evan?" Alex said, frowning.

"Alex, I-"

"We have to concentrate on you getting better right now Alex. We don't want to put too much strain on your brain for now. Do you remember what happened?" The doctor glared at Evan, as if to keep him quiet.

"I...I want Molly. Where's Molly?" Alex said again, ignoring the doctor's question.

"Don't worry about Molly; we need to get you better first. Now, back to my quest--"

"No! Of course I'm going to worry about her. She's my daughter," Alex could feel her strength fading as she used all of her energy on raising her voice, "I've waited months to see her... I need to see her."

Evan frowned, looking again at the doctor, before slowly speaking: "I think you're confused Alex. You were only shot two days ago."

"I...I can't have been... you don't understand...I...I," she fell silent, realizing that Evan was right. What was a month for her, in her mind's 1981, could have easily been only minutes in reality.

"She needs to know," Evan looked at the doctor, who in turn furrowed her eyebrows.

"Okay."

Evan cleared his throat, "Alex... we... we need to tell you a few things. About... Molls."

"What?" Alex said, feeling her heart sink.

"You don't remember do you?" he said gently, sitting down beside her and taking her hand.

She snatched it away.

"Don't remember what?!"

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. She didn't want to hear what Evan had to say. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she didn't want to hear it. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to go back to sleep. This had to be a nightmare. It couldn't be real.

Images flashed behind her closed eyelids. Molly sitting in the car on the way to school. Molly blowing out her birthday candles. Leyton holding Molly with the gun held to her head. Molly screaming. Then there was a gunshot, much like the one she'd seen and heard so many times during her time in imaginary 1981. Only this wasn't the same. It wasn't her face reflected in the cold, round metal. She screamed, part of her knowing what was coming next.

Molly lying on the ground. Molly in the arms of the clown, laughter erupting from his upturned lips as he carried the limp body of Alex's daughter as if she was nothing more than a rag-doll.

Alex felt herself sliding back into unconsciousness, could hear Evan exclaiming something which she couldn't quite catch, and finally let herself drift off to the lullaby of a beeping heart monitor.

-

The sun was bright, even through the closed blinds. Alex slowly awoke, but couldn't force her eyes to open. A small, soft hand was clinging to her own, and she smiled, realizing that she'd been right. It had all been a bad nightmare.

"Mum?"

Alex willed her eyes to open. She needed to see Molly, to hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay now.

"Mum?" the voice was muffled, and drowned out by a ringing in Alex's ears.

_Come on, open your eyes,_ she pleaded with herself. She tried one more time, and thankfully, her eyes slowly opened.

She looked around. Everything was still fuzzy and she couldn't make out anything besides blocks of colour, the most prominent being white. That wasn't a surprise – she was in a hospital after all. Slowly, her eyes adjusted, and she looked down at the hand in her own, expecting it to be Molly's.

It wasn't. It was pure white, like a ghost, and her eyes travelled up a white and grey frilly sleeve. To her horror, she realized exactly who it was, and let out a scream, jerking her arm away.

"Ma'am!" the voice was clear this time, and, tears filling her eyes, Alex realized her mistake.

"Shaz," she breathed, letting the tears fall off her cheeks, "Shaz, I'm so sorry. I... I thought..."

"It's okay ma'am, you're bound to be in shock. You were shot," she said each of the last three words slowly, with big pauses, as if to make sure Alex understood.

Once Alex nodded in understanding, Shaz continued.

"I need to tell Ray to let the Guv know that you're alright. He's been worried sick."

"The Guv?"

Shaz nodded, "he's next door."

"Next door?" Alex frowned in confusion, lifting the hand which was not in Shaz's to her forehead in a weak attempt to lull the headache.

"You don't remember do you? He was holdin' you when you... well... he thought you died," she paused, "he tried to kill 'imself ma'am."

This had to be a dream too, didn't it? Gene Hunt showing emotion? To an extent that he was actually willing to take his own life because she... because she was dead? Alex took a deep breath.

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he tried to shoot 'imself, but Ray stopped him... bit of a scuffle, but he ended up shooting 'is foot. He'll be fine," she smiled, "worry about yourself, not 'im."

"And Chris?"

Shaz blushed lightly, and Alex frowned again.

"Chris is fine ma'am."

"Good... I'm glad," she closed her eyes, then opened them quickly as she remembered what she'd seen last time she'd done that, "I...oh god... I have to get to Molly."

"It's alright... Chris has got her. He took her to get some sweets," Shaz said, then thought again, "as long as it's alright for her to have sweets... we didn't really know what to do..."

Alex couldn't process what Shaz was saying. How could Molly be with Chris? Molly wasn't here, she was in 2008, with Evan and...

"I need to find her! I need to make sure she's okay!" Alex said, struggling to sit up properly.

"She's fine! Chris is good with kids. I've got this niece and he's always takin' her for piggy backs and--"

"No! You don't understand! They said... they told me she was dead. And then she shows up here... she... she can't be here. This isn't right."

"I'm sorry ma'am... they found 'er in your flat... assumed her dad had dropped her round or something. She wanted to come and see you. I remembered you talking about her a few times... I couldn't say no to a little girl whose mum was in hospital," Shaz rambled, but Alex wasn't listening any more.

The door swung open and Chris came in, Molly following suit, chattering away about something that Alex didn't quite pick up on.

"Molls!" she gasped, tears flooding off her cheeks, "Molly... I... I can't believe it's really you."

The little girl froze in her tracks, staring at her mother.

"Mum?" her voice was shaky, but it was definitely that of her daughter, "Oh my god Mum, you're alright!"

"I...I'm alright. Better now you're here," she said as Molly jumped onto the bed and flung her arms around her.

"You can hear me! You can actually hear me!" the little girl said, gulping down tears.

"Of course I can Molls," Alex whispered, holding her daughter close.

Shaz took this as her cue to leave, pulling Chris out too, muttering something about going to see Hunt and telling him she was awake.

Alex pretty much ignored them, although she was grateful for them leaving her with some time alone with Molly.

"I was so scared Mum. I was talking to you and you couldn't hear me," said Molly, burying her head in her mother's shoulder.

"You... you were?" Alex sniffed, closing her eyes and pressing a kiss to her little girl's head.

"Yeah. Sometimes... sometimes you could see me. And you'd talk. But you couldn't hear what I said in reply. And sometimes I'd wake up and I couldn't see you any more, just hear you. I didn't know what to do," she sobbed, "I just...I just didn't know."

"Molly, listen to me, where have you been?"

She looked up with scared eyes, "in your flat. Above the restaurant. I've stayed there. I didn't know where else to go."

"So no one else knew you were there?" Alex shifted, lifting Molly's head so that she could look her in the eye.

"No... well... I tried to see if anyone could see me at first. But...but no one could... well... no one but... but..." she bit her lip, looking down.

"No one but who?"

"The guy who owns the restaurant. I didn't tell him who I was or anything... but he'd bring me food sometimes. I made him promise not to tell anyone I was there. He tried to show me to his wife, but she couldn't see me either. I was so scared mum, I didn't know who else to turn to."

"It's okay," hugging the 12-year-old, Alex tried to work everything over in her mind, but whichever way she looked at it, it didn't make any sense.

-

Hunt didn't feel like it was his place to go in and see her. How was he supposed to explain what he'd done when he thought she was dead? He couldn't tell her how he felt. The Gene Genie didn't have feelings, especially not of that kind. No, he'd stay in his room, and she'd stay in hers. It wasn't as if she needed him anyway; she had Molly now. The little girl she'd spoken so fondly of was back with her and that was all the support she needed.

And yet, here he was, standing outside her hospital room, peering in through the half closed blinds, watching them sleep. He ached to go in there, to hold her close and tell her that he needed her just as much as she needed him. And he knew there was nothing stopping him, besides the presence of the small blonde girl who was huddled up close to his sleeping DI. He couldn't compete with a child, especially not one who was loved so dearly by a mother who hadn't seen her in months.

Sighing, he moved away from the window and tiptoed back to this own room, closing the door with a soft click.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **reasonably short chapter, but someone was nagging at me to get some up, so I thought small is better than nothing, right? This is gonna be more chapters than I expected. Thanks so much for being patient and reviewing and whatnot! I'm sorry it's taken so long, but my muse has been on vacation, seemingly ;) Or at least, my A2A has. And I think I'm not invested enough in Alex and Molly's relationship for it to be easy for me to write... I mean, I personally don't see it as a believable mother-daughter relationship. Which I figured, at first, was down to bad writing, or bad acting (which is weird cos a.) Keeley's an amazing actress and b.) she's a mother herself), but I think I finally figured it out. It's because she rarely ever sees her, so she's probably not a great mother. That's why it seems so forced. Hoorah. Anyway, ramble over. Onto the fic.

**-**

Alex had insisted on discharging herself the next morning. She'd almost expected Gene to offer to take her and Molly home, but when he hadn't, she'd called a cab. Now, she was stood in the living room, watching as Molly took in her surroundings properly, neither of them really sure what to do or say. Alex hadn't been a parent for so long that she'd forgotten what it was like, as ridiculous as that sounded. This world had pushed her towards acting more like a teenager than anything else. She spent each night at a small table in Luigi's, washing her thoughts away with glass after glass of cheap wine. Each day was spent burying herself in paperwork and cases, and trying to work out how to get home. There was nothing the least bit mother-like about any of it.

_Don't kid yourself; you've never been a good mother_, she thought, with a sigh. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually spent a day with her daughter. Each of Molly's birthdays she'd told herself that this year would be different, but it never was.

"I'm hungry," Molly piped up, causing her mother to snap out of her thoughts.

"Oh. Right, yeah. You can make yourself a sandwich," she said, thankful to Luigi for constantly keeping her fridge and cupboards stocked. Not that she ever ate anything. That was probably why he did it, come to think of it. He'd often said that she was too skinny.

"Do you have peanut butter?"

Alex frowned, "No, I don't think so. But you can't have any anyway. You're allergic to peanuts Molls, you know that."

"What? No I'm not. Peanut butter is my favourite."

"No..." Alex trailed off, lifting a hand to her head, feeling a sudden headache come on. Not that that was much of a surprise; she had been shot. Twice, technically.

"Yes. Peanut butter. With jam, sometimes," Molly hopped past her and to the kitchen, opening the fridge.

"Molls?" she watched the little girl scanning the fridge's contents, "what's your favourite colour?"

"Purple," the child said, not turning away from the fridge.

"No..." Alex repeated, shaking her head.

"Yeah. Purple. And my room's purple too. You let me choose the wallpaper," Molly closed the fridge door, balancing a jar of mustard and a box of ham in the other hand, and plonking them down on the counter.

"No. Your room's green. I wanted purple, but you hated the one I picked out. You asked for green. Green's your favourite."

Molly raised an eyebrow, opening the jar of mustard and gazing across at Alex, "Mum is something wrong?"

"Everything's wrong," she muttered.

-

Alex lay awake in bed that evening, eyes drifting from the ceiling lamp above her to the sleeping child beside her, and then back again. It was weird; she'd not slept in her bed since the strange dreams, opting for the couch instead. But she felt like it was 'safe' to stay in her own bed now. The clown hadn't made an appearance in a while, and, more importantly, she had Molly.

That was the problem though. This Molly wasn't Molly. Alex knew that it was impossible for her daughter to be real, she'd just not wanted to admit it. Molly was a construct just like everybody else in this world that Alex's mind had made up. The child who was snuggled up next to her right now, softly snoring, was only there because Alex had put her there. The real Molly was back in 2008, no doubt sitting right beside her mother's bedside. She tried to block out what Evan had said to her when she'd woken in 2008. How did she even know that was real? She probably hadn't woken at all. It was probably a dream induced by the shooting. A dream, within a dream. God this was confusing.

What bothered Alex more was that she wasn't making proper connections anymore. She couldn't work out what her head was doing. Molly's room _was _green wasn't it? Which part of her mind was wrong; the one that had created 1981 Molly who insisted her room was purple, or the one which held her memories and was insisting that it was green?

She was stupid to think that by having Molly here everything would be fine. _I know exactly what this is,_ she thought, _this is my mind trying to trick me into wanting to stay in 1981. _

Molly had, after all, been her only reason for getting back. But if she had her daughter here, maybe she didn't need to get back at all. Maybe she could stay here, with Molly, and have Gene and the rest of the 1981 'gang' too; the best of both worlds. She had to remind herself that it wasn't really Molly. And Gene wasn't real either. _If he's not real, then why did you feel so hurt when he didn't so much as come to see you​? _She wiped that thought out of her head. She couldn't think about Gene. He just made things more complicated. And things were complicated enough as it was.

-

A sharp thudding on the front door woke Alex only a couple of hours afterwards. Checking that Molly was still asleep (she was; that child could sleep through anything), Alex slid out of bed and pulled on her dressing gown, the brown material cold against her sweaty body (she'd been having another bad-dream; naturally) and padded out to the hall. She opened the door to find Gene Hunt on the other side of it, looking more than a little pissed.

"Gene..." she started, her heart pounding just from seeing him. She hoped that if he noticed – she doubted he would - he'd assume that it was just surprise; she'd not seen him since the shooting. And she certainly wasn't about to tell him that the so-called 'nightmare' she'd been in the middle of had involved him. She didn't want to have to hear about it for weeks later.

"I...I wanted to check yer okay," he said, his voice gruff and slurring, but still laced with care and worry.

Alex smiled.

"I'm alright. Did you really need to check at-" she checked her watch, "-4.28 am?"

"I...I had to pluck up the courage to uh... is yer kid 'ere?"

She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, "yes," _where else was she likely to be?_

"Right. Um... you'd best sit down," he twitched, not meeting her eyes. It reminded her of when he'd asked her out to dinner.

Alex did as he asked, and sat down on the sofa, tugging the bottom of her dressing gown down in attempt to cover her thighs at least a little better. She hadn't expected any visitors and as it was a warm night – especially for October – had only put on a thin nightdress that night. Unsurprisingly, Gene had eyed this display of flesh several times since she opened the door to him.

"I...I didn't know if I should come over," he said, again looking away, his stare instead resting on the sofa.

_It's strange seeing him so tongue-tied_, Alex mused, watching him carefully, "well I'm glad you did," she said, finally.

"I guess Ray probably told you...?" he muttered, glancing up at her for a second.

"Uh... no. Shaz did, actually. Look, Gene-"

"No. Look, I know I put yer in a weird position... but... I...I... god. Do you have to be sitting there looking so..." his voice faded and he groaned.

_Shaggable_, she thought, knowing that she was taking the word right out of his mouth. She grinned inwardly, her face remaining blank, as not to patronise him.

"Gene, why did you come here?" she said, cautiously.

He didn't answer, but his blue eyes were now looking directly into hers, as if they were searching for some sort of signal. Alex shivered under his gaze.

Finally, after what seemed like minutes, Gene spoke.

"I. I came here to tell you 'ow I feel. Or... show you," he said, his voice softer than usual.

Alex felt her body tingle in anticipation. It was disobeying her, as her mind willed it to calm down. However much she thought she wanted this, she couldn't do it. It would make things too complicated.

Before she knew it, his lips were on hers. He had an arm either side of her shoulders, palms flat against the wall, pinning her to the back of the sofa. His kisses were soft at first, tentative, but as he sensed her relax, they grew deeper, hungrier. Alex's lips parted and he let his tongue explore, probing about gently as if it sensed her reluctance. Her hands reached for his shirt, gripping it tightly, as he pushed her down so that she was lying on the sofa, his legs either side of hers.

They broke the kiss, both left breathless, and Gene looked at her with questioning eyes.

"This is what you want?" he asked.

Alex nodded, "mmm."

He nodded too, and then his lips were back on hers, pulling her bottom lip into his mouth and biting it gently, as his hands moved to lift her dressing gown, grazing her inner thigh, moving upwards until...

Alex woke. She was sweating more than ever, and she was sure she'd probably been moving rather a lot, as she was now right at the edge of the mattress. A quick glance at Molly told her that the youngster was still asleep. Alex let out a sharp breath. _Pull yourself together._ It had felt so real. Not that that was any excuse; this whole world felt real, even though she knew it wasn't.

Glancing at the clock at the side of her bed, Alex was surprised to see that it read precisely 4.28. She shuddered. Some things in this world her mind had created were so strange. She was amazed at her own capacity to make things up sometimes. She'd never imagined that it was possible to dream whilst in an imaginary world. It was crazy really. It really was like being alive in the real world... only... different. She couldn't explain it. How crazy she'd thought Sam was when he'd gone on about all of it. _Sorry Sam_, she thought, rubbing at her temples.

-

**TBC**


End file.
